My daughter has small feet, compared to her peers, so why is it that her steps sound like a herd of elephants. I wake up every morning to the bang, bang of her little feet hitting the floor. She is three-years-old. Small and wiry, yet I'd mistake her for a 200-pound man running down the stairs to wake me up at 6:15 a.m., again. Then, like clockwork, she climbs into bed, stepping on my head, sitting on my head, pulling my hair out with her feet because her toes are now tangled up in my unruly curly mop, and cheers quite loudly in her high-pitch, deafening screech, "Morning time mommy, wake up!"
SSSHHHHH! I reply. "Ten more minutes." Then, she stands up and starts jumping on the bed. How much coffee has she had already, I wonder. And, why has she not brought me some. I tell her to go start the coffee and she cracks herself up. She jumps and jumps, then kicks my husband in the nuts and lands on my gut. He howls. I scream. She cries.
Just another wonderful morning at my house.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sit and be still
Sit and be still. How many times have you said that to your kid? Once? Twice? A hundred times? How many times have said that to yourself? Probably, not many. Instead, we tell ourselves, “Keep going – get the laundry done, start dinner, vacuum.” Your inner voice screams and repeats over and over and over again, “Don’t sit down because if you do it’s over! If you sit, even for a minute, you’ll get tired and want to rest. And, if you rest your inefficient.” Tick Tick Tick, says your mind. Your temples start to throb. Time is running out, so you manage to keep your feet moving and your arms flailing to succeed as the top contestant of the mother-of-the-year award.
If you are anything like me you are in and out of appointments, rushing from one activity to the next; throwing in laundry on the way out and eating meals while dropping and picking kids up from school or soccer or hockey or violin lessons, etc. Before you realize it, another year has passed and sadly, the mother-of-the-year award went to some fictitious character who presumably resembled June Cleaver, or the modern day version: She was always ten minutes early to drop off her squeaky, clean kids at school,. Of course, she wears her perfectly-fit skinny jeans, crispy white fitted t-shirt; her hair and nails were always perfect. Her teeth even sparkled white and she was always pleasant, even to her kids. Their lunch boxes probably contained marinated okra with black bean compote and a side of strawberries and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, and to make matters worse, the kids ate it. The thought of it all secretly makes your squeamish, but you would never admit it.
You, on the other hand, drop your kids off wearing the same sweatpants you vowed to throw away many times in the past two years. At least they still fit, right? You hope no body speaks to you because you rushed out the door, forgetting to brush your teeth, towing your two kids and their lunch boxes of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and their shoes and their backpacks and your shoes and your coffee tumbler, all practically balancing on your head.
At least you made it out the door. Then, on the drive to school you blare the music to your kids’ favorite morning song, ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ by U2. Your fictitious mom is probably listening to Antonio Vivaldi, one of the greatest composers of all time!
As soon as you get to school you shoo them out the door and tell them to get to class, “Hurry, hurry! Run, don’t be late. Go, go now.”
With all the rushing and commotion, one of your kid;s forgets his backpack.Now, you areforced to park the car and enter the school wearing your ragged sweatpants and ferocious breath.
So, how can your children sit and be still if you can’t even do it? In order to be still, you need to stop moving and rid yourself of the excess noise. So, does that mean cover your kid’s mouths with duct tape and toss them in the basement until dinner? Well, the thought had crossed my mind but social services would be here in a flash and I need those tax deductions. (Ya’ll know I am kidding, right?)
The excess noise I am referring to is the radio, the television, the videogames - all the stuff that clutters your mind. Get rid of it all and listen. Listen to the wind, the birds, the chitter chatter of your kids at play. Listen to your life and how it passes by each day, quite swiftly I must add. Just today, I attempted to read a new book my three-year-old daughter and I checked out from the library. Before I even cracked open the book, my daughter told me the story’s premise. How did she know that? I wondered. I asked her who read this to her before. She said, “You did mommy. We got this book before.” I was stumped. I didn’t even recognize the book; well, maybe a little now that I study the cover, but I couldn’t tell you what it was about, yet I had read it before. My body was still when I read it but my mind was racing somewhere else. I couldn’t recall it all.
Sadly, I wondered what other moments in her life I had forgotten. I’ve been so preoccupied with getting through the day, or knocking the next item from my to-do list that I have missed out on time. Her time! Apparently, I am an excellent multi-tasker – I may be able to handle it all but I sure as heck can’t tell you what I handled. So, where does that leave me? Well, right now I am going to sit and be still and watch my daughter dance to her favorite television show, “Olivia” – because that is what she is doing right this second.
And, the fictitious mom I talked about earlier, well, she doesn’t exist. So, off with her head!
If you are anything like me you are in and out of appointments, rushing from one activity to the next; throwing in laundry on the way out and eating meals while dropping and picking kids up from school or soccer or hockey or violin lessons, etc. Before you realize it, another year has passed and sadly, the mother-of-the-year award went to some fictitious character who presumably resembled June Cleaver, or the modern day version: She was always ten minutes early to drop off her squeaky, clean kids at school,. Of course, she wears her perfectly-fit skinny jeans, crispy white fitted t-shirt; her hair and nails were always perfect. Her teeth even sparkled white and she was always pleasant, even to her kids. Their lunch boxes probably contained marinated okra with black bean compote and a side of strawberries and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, and to make matters worse, the kids ate it. The thought of it all secretly makes your squeamish, but you would never admit it.
You, on the other hand, drop your kids off wearing the same sweatpants you vowed to throw away many times in the past two years. At least they still fit, right? You hope no body speaks to you because you rushed out the door, forgetting to brush your teeth, towing your two kids and their lunch boxes of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and their shoes and their backpacks and your shoes and your coffee tumbler, all practically balancing on your head.
At least you made it out the door. Then, on the drive to school you blare the music to your kids’ favorite morning song, ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ by U2. Your fictitious mom is probably listening to Antonio Vivaldi, one of the greatest composers of all time!
As soon as you get to school you shoo them out the door and tell them to get to class, “Hurry, hurry! Run, don’t be late. Go, go now.”
With all the rushing and commotion, one of your kid;s forgets his backpack.Now, you areforced to park the car and enter the school wearing your ragged sweatpants and ferocious breath.
So, how can your children sit and be still if you can’t even do it? In order to be still, you need to stop moving and rid yourself of the excess noise. So, does that mean cover your kid’s mouths with duct tape and toss them in the basement until dinner? Well, the thought had crossed my mind but social services would be here in a flash and I need those tax deductions. (Ya’ll know I am kidding, right?)
The excess noise I am referring to is the radio, the television, the videogames - all the stuff that clutters your mind. Get rid of it all and listen. Listen to the wind, the birds, the chitter chatter of your kids at play. Listen to your life and how it passes by each day, quite swiftly I must add. Just today, I attempted to read a new book my three-year-old daughter and I checked out from the library. Before I even cracked open the book, my daughter told me the story’s premise. How did she know that? I wondered. I asked her who read this to her before. She said, “You did mommy. We got this book before.” I was stumped. I didn’t even recognize the book; well, maybe a little now that I study the cover, but I couldn’t tell you what it was about, yet I had read it before. My body was still when I read it but my mind was racing somewhere else. I couldn’t recall it all.
Sadly, I wondered what other moments in her life I had forgotten. I’ve been so preoccupied with getting through the day, or knocking the next item from my to-do list that I have missed out on time. Her time! Apparently, I am an excellent multi-tasker – I may be able to handle it all but I sure as heck can’t tell you what I handled. So, where does that leave me? Well, right now I am going to sit and be still and watch my daughter dance to her favorite television show, “Olivia” – because that is what she is doing right this second.
And, the fictitious mom I talked about earlier, well, she doesn’t exist. So, off with her head!
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